


The Pickman Case

by Sam_Sandwich



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: ??????????, Art, Blood, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Detectives, Gen, Gore, He also still a metal boi so it's really not prewar but I decided there were cars, Nick is crusty and sad, Sort of pre-war, Weird Modern AU?, but not really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-18 07:08:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16990350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sam_Sandwich/pseuds/Sam_Sandwich
Summary: Nick Valentine and newest recruit Natalie Benton investigate the case of the Pickman gallery. A shit show ensues.





	The Pickman Case

The path was dimly lit by street lights and passing cars, illuminated further with the click of the detective’s lighter. He held the cigarette in his bad hand as he exhaled smoke into the cold autumn air, his wiry metal fingers loosely holding onto the cigarette. This was destined to be one of his bigger cases, bigger than the plastic surgery murders, bigger than the Golden Grasshopper case, though maybe not as big as the Eddie Winter case, which was still partially unsolved. 

This case hadn’t been looked into ever, all the clues seeming like pranks to spur urban legends of an artist driven mad, settled in the old abandoned gallery to present his masterpieces, the canvases spattered with blood. It wasn’t until the bodies started showing up outside the detective agency he started taking things seriously.

The victims all got the same treatment: a stab wound to the neck, and most of their blood lost, a calling card of sorts lying on their chests. A simple white note with a heart, signed Pickman in a dark red hue. A couple cards decorated with an arrow through the heart, a play on Valentine’s detective agency. Real funny. 

He turned the corner only to turn into an alleyway where the building in question resided, propped up against the wall lazily next to it was his newest partner,Natalie Benton. No real detective training until she started running with Nick, and no filter. She was the bad cop in any interrogations, and a bad cop in most other situations. She was observant though, making her a somewhat valuable partner. 

Natalie grinned and stomped out her cigarette when she saw him enter the alleyway. “Valentine! Was starting to think you’d never show,” her enthusiasm probably too loud for the situation.

“You seem awfully excited to solve this one, kid. Was the Doc Crocker case too clean for you?” Nick deadpanned.

“You kidding? That guy was killing by purposely botching facial reconstruction surgery. If anything, I’m excited to see if the rumors are true, and to see some fine art of course,” Natalie mused.

Nick gave her a tired look and asked “Oh yeah? What are the rumors?” 

“I heard that if you take down the painting of the guy with yellow eyes, there’ll be a safe behind it. I dunno what’s in it, but,” she paused to pull a bobby pin out of her hair, “I came prepared!” 

“Sure you did. Did you bring your pistol? We don’t know who or what’ll be in there, best to be prepared,” Nick said. Natalie patted her holster twice and flashed a grin before opening the door as quietly as she could, crouching low to the ground in an attempt to sneak easier.

Looking straight ahead from the entrance didn’t look bad, a little run down sure, but just a hallway to the left and a pair of stairs that looked like they’d creak if they stared hard enough to the right. Looking into the first doorway to the left however, confirmed every story told throughout the city. 

The stench was overwhelming, but the sight knocked them back even more. A pile of bodies arranged neatly on spikes and in poses made possible by the stiffness of rigor mortis, sat in the center of the room, a sort of monument, an altar to the “creative spirit” of the artist self-titled as Pickman. Placed orderly on the walls were paintings of different shades of red, brown, and strangely, orange and yellow. The pieces depicted faces screaming in agony, some of which reflected in the dying expressions of the people propped up in the middle. There were hands rising from hell, eyes covering a canvas seeming to watch your every movement, and one painting on the back wall, a man with yellow eyes.

Though Natalie was just as shaken as Nick, if not more, ever the one to make light of the situation, she signaled to Nick to wait a moment as she crept over to the painting, titled “Stanley” as a small home made plaque indicated. She carefully removed it from its nail, and gently settled it on the ground, revealing just what she prepared for, a small-wall safe. After checking it for any possible triggers for traps or anything (who knows what this guy is capable of), she began picking the lock. Nick was slightly more relaxed at this point. Still on edge, obviously, but it was becoming increasingly obvious that no one was home, and that the investigation may not end in a conflict, at least not tonight. As soon as Nick heard the click of the lock finally giving, and Natalie’s quiet reactions to the piles of cash under a simple switchblade, he also heard steps coming down the old, creaking staircase.


End file.
